


Caniah's Day Off

by Ishti



Category: Aveyond
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 06:04:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17503034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishti/pseuds/Ishti
Summary: Sometimes all it takes is one busybody.Winter Exchange gift for Jambalaya!





	Caniah's Day Off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jambalaya (Qarma)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qarma/gifts).



> Caniah belongs to Jambalaya!

_“Caniah.”_

Something jabbed Caniah in the ribs, and she jerked awake from her dreamless nap with a snort. The classroom around her was otherwise silent as the professor scribbled a configuration of deltas and lambdas and whatnot on the board, muttering to himself as the chalk scraped and scratched. Caniah sighed and rubbed her aching eyes.

_Ugh… why do we even have to take these stupid general-education classes? What does physics matter to a sword singer?_

She shrugged her shoulder in a begrudging display of gratitude for the student somewhere behind her and picked up her pen. Mindlessly copying the equation written at the top of the board, she turned her attention to internalizing the definition written just below:

 _Observer Effect_ _  
_ _The act of witnessing any phenomenon will inherently affect and change the outcome of that phenomenon._

Caniah rolled her eyes as she crossed the last _t._ All this scientific theory crap was a waste of time. She drew a cat puking in the corner of her notes.

Moments later, the bell rang. Caniah shot up from the bench and, as she dashed through the door, barely heard the professor tell the class, “Remember, this principle applies to situations in all areas of life, not just in a science lab. Enjoy the festival!”

Whatever. It was time for Advanced Weaponry Technique 301. Professor Rhen Pendragon’s class.

Nothing energized Caniah more than the promise of studying under her idol. Four days a week, Professor Rhen trained her and her peers in specialized combat--no singing, no channeling, no magic. Just good old-fashioned blades and bludgeoning. Professor Rhen’s fighting skill was unparalleled in all the isles, and likely throughout all of Aia. As far as Caniah was concerned, her teaching skill was also unmatched.

The class took place in the dormitory courtyard. As usual, Caniah arrived early. She ran up the steps to the sword singer dorms to the third door and jammed her key into the lock. It took a little jiggling to open before she could toss her books onto her bed, snatch this week’s sword and knife selection, and slam the door closed once more. With a bounce in her step, she stuffed her keys back into her pocket and made for the courtyard.

Professor Rhen had arrived by the time she reached the bend in the hall, but she heard another voice-- _Professor Tenobor._ Rhen was laughing openly at something, and she heard Lars chuckle low, gently, the characteristic tension absent from his voice. Hiding around the bend in the dormitory hallway, Caniah grinned. She wished she could hear what they were saying.

Carefully, she peeked around the doorway. They were standing close, but not _too_ close; they _had_ been friends for years and years, and they’d been through every imaginable trauma together, so of course they’d be comfortable with one another….

Rhen made a joke and pointed her fingers at Lars. He grabbed her shoulder and doubled over laughing, his guffaws echoing between the stone walls. She snickered.

Caniah sighed. They were _made_ for each other.

Rhen pushed Lars away jovially. They spoke for a moment before--

 _“Oof._ Oh, sorry, Caniah.”

Another sword singing student barreled past Caniah from the sorcerer dorms to the sword singer dorms, knocking her aside and obscuring her view. “It’s fine,” she grumbled, whipping back around to stare into the courtyard, but it was too late. Rhen stood alone by the waterfall. Lars had already left.

_Did they kiss or not?!_

Caniah sighed again and hoisted her zweihander further up her back. If life were a story, written by someone far up above in the stars, then Rhen and Lars were written specifically to be madly in love and to make one another wildly happy. Every time either one of them seemed to cast their sights elsewhere, it settled like rotten meat in Caniah’s stomach. They _had_ to end up together! Destiny _demanded_ it.

She didn’t even know whether they were dating now. It was driving her nuts.

_Should I just… ask…? They’re my professors; that would be kind of…._

The clock struck ten. Caniah yelped and sprinted out into the courtyard to join the assembling crowd.

Rhen smirked at her as she straightened out at the back of the class. “Last to arrive, last to leave; right, ‘Niah?”

A titter spread across the class as Caniah reddened. “Right.”

“Fifteen minute spar after class. _Then_ lunch.”

Caniah swallowed. That didn’t sound so bad. “Right.”

“You’re in for it,” whispered a student to her left.

“Great!” Rhen drew her rapier. “Let’s begin.”

 

 

“A fifteen-minute solo spar?” Blanchefleur shook her head as she unwrapped her cucumber sandwich. “I don’t know why she does that. Someone’s always got to be the last one in.”

Caniah winced, trying to find a comfortable position to sit on the lounge bench. “I’m going to bruise like a peach.”

“That’s probably _why_ she does it,” commented Sophie, her ankles crossed high on the table as she made slow work of a glistening red apple.

“To render me unfit for consumption?”

“To make sure everyone gets enough practice in, Miss Whiny-Pants.”

Caniah and her two best friends, both sorcery students, were the only Shadwood residents from the Western Isle besides Professor Rhen herself. Blanchefleur hailed from the glorious city of Sedona (to which she swore she’d never return), and Sophie was a native of Clearwater, Rhen’s own hometown. That wasn’t _why_ they’d grown so close, but it did contribute to their friendship in their earliest days at school.

“Or she just needs to get laid,” Caniah muttered under her breath.

Blanchefleur snorted. “What?”

“Is this another one of those Lars things?” laughed Sophie.

“Maybe.”

“Your obsession with their relationship is bordering on creepy,” said Blanchefleur.

“Come on; you can’t deny that they deserve each other!”

“But if they don’t _want_ each other--”

“They do!”

“Ladies!” chirped Sophie. “We have had this conversation forty seven times to date, and it has reached its point of recursion forty seven times to date. Agree to disagree?”

Blanchefleur raised her hands in mock surrender. “Disagree.”

Caniah rolled her eyes. “Disagree.”

The three munched in silence for a while, enjoying their lunches as well as the sunlight slowly reaching its warming arms through the high windows in the student lounge. Caniah rested her head on Blanchefleur’s shoulder as she ate her potatoes, the motions of her jaw making the other girl giggle. Sophie slipped a knife from her robes and began carving her apple core into the shape of a lizard.

“Are you two going to the festival tomorrow?” asked Blanchefleur.

Caniah and Sophie exchanged a glance. Sophie raised an eyebrow.

“Are you going to ask, or should I?”

“Um…. What festival?”

Blanchefleur rolled her lips between her teeth and took a sip of tea before pointing at a flyer posted on the bulletin board Sophie was tapping with her foot.

Sophie raised her other eyebrow. “Oh.”

Caniah leaned forward to stare at the flyer. “Did we ignore this one last year, too?”

“Well, _you_ did.” Blanchefleur shrugged.

“Hmm.” Sophie’s eyes sparkled. “This could be a stellar opportunity for you, ‘Niah. Do a little observation.”

Caniah furrowed her brow. “Observation?”

“Of the fated lovers.”

Blanchefleur audibly scoffed behind her, but Caniah didn’t care. Her eyes widened. “You think I should watch Rhen and see if she meets Lars at the festival?”

“Ha! Why limit yourself there?” Sophie grinned. “This flyer says the festival doesn’t start until evening; follow them a bit on their day off! Get some details! If you truly haven’t a clue who these people are spending their time with.”

Caniah smiled slowly. “We _do_ have the _whole_ day off….”

“You’re getting it.”

“You’re _creepy,”_ muttered Blanchefleur.

“Don’t listen to Blanche. She’s never had fun in her life.”

Blanchefleur narrowed her eyes, then set her tea down on the table and dove at Sophie with tickling fingers. Sophie squealed and kicked violently, dislodging the flyer from the bulletin board. Dodging the mayhem beside her, Caniah wriggled over the table to snatch up the flyer and tuck it in her pocket just before the bell struck one.

 

 

Bright and early in the morning, long before anyone else with the day off could be bothered to wake up, Caniah found Rhen stretching by the courtyard waterfall. Yesterday's sunlight was now filtered through a haze of grey clouds, hinting at rainshowers to come. Caniah crossed her fingers in the pocket beside the flyer and sent a silent prayer to the Goddess that the festival not be canceled that evening.

“Good morning, Caniah,” called Rhen without turning around.

Caniah shook the last of the sleep from her eyes and trotted out to meet her teacher. “Morning, Professor Rhen! Sleep well after I kicked your butt yesterday?”

Rhen laughed--nothing like the unrestrained, almost childish laugh she let loose with Lars the day prior, but her laugh was mischievous; she was always in on the joke. “I slept well knowing you’d never run late to class again.”

“I wasn't--!” Caniah protested reflexively, but bit her lip just too late to avoid the lecture.

“Come on, ‘Niah. As my star student, you have to be a leader for the others. Set an example. What have I told you before?”

Caniah gazed at the waterfall. “‘To be early is to be on time; to be on time is to be late.’”

“And the fundamental rule of leadership?”

“‘Take the blame for everything.’”

Rhen grabbed a saber from the grass and twirled it in lazy circles. “Why is that?”

“I… I will never be the victim of my circumstances, and neither will anyone looking up to me.”

“Nice.” With a smile, Rhen tossed Caniah the saber and snatched another one from the ground. “I’m assuming you came for a rematch.”

She hadn't, but Caniah was never one to pass up an opportunity to flaunt her bravado. With a grin, she brandished the sword. “When I win, you’re gonna do me a favor.”

Rhen chuckled. “Am I, now? What favor is that?”

“Are you going to the festival with anyone?”

“What kind of weird question--?”

“Are you? Your friends, or a date or anyone?”

Rhen raised an eyebrow. “This had better be a good favor. I'm probably going with Professors Akinola and Brown.”

Reflexively, Caniah lowered her shoulders in disappointment. “Not Lars?” slipped from her mouth.

“Lars?” Rhen murmured, surprised.

“Um--” _They're not even going to hang out? At all? Even as friends? How am I supposed to see how they interact? How am I supposed to tell whether they're together yet or whether they're still stalling?!_ “--anyway, after I win, you’re gonna meet me at the festival. And then I--I’ll tell you the favor.”

Rhen sniffed and crossed her saber with Caniah’s. “Why do I feel like I’m working on my day off?”

“Aren't you curious?” Caniah smirked, her confidence growing. She knew she was right.

Rhen narrowed her eyes. “When I win, I’ll meet you at the festival, and you’ll read me your notes from Professor Dostal’s class.”

Caniah swallowed.

“Sundown at the old palm.”

“All right.”

“En garde!”

 

 

“Wait… you're telling me you _never_ just, you know, _hang out?_ With _anyone?”_

“Yes. That's what I’m telling you. How did you even find me?”

Caniah dangled her bruised legs from the tower window beside Lars, who sat cross-legged with his lunch and a stack of ungraded paper exams with his back to the cloudy sky. A gust of wind threatened to unbalance her, but the exams remained safe beneath a small paperweight squirrel whittled from highland sequoia.

“You do have _friends,_ right?” Caniah pressed.

Lars shrugged and slurped down a gulletful of noodles.

“Other sorcerers? Other professors?”

Shrug.

“Other… people who defeated Ahriman together?”

Lars fixed Caniah with an irritated glare. She batted her eyelashes.

“Yeah, Rhen’s my friend. That should go without saying.”

“So do you hang out or not?!”

“I _thought_ it was _just_ recently and thoroughly established that I enjoy my alone-time.”

“Ugh.”

“You’re just like her, you know.”

Caniah turned a little red. “Wait… really?”

Lars rolled his eyes. “Yep. Now, is there a point to any of this?”

“Oh! I was just wondering if I would be able to find you at the festival later. And with whom. I have, um, something I want to talk about.”

“With the High Sorcerer?” Lars raised an eyebrow.

“It's about…” Caniah blinked, her mind tumbling and racing as fast as she could push it. “Uh… this technique… I was working on with Blanchefleur. We want to show you together.”

“O-o-okay.” Lars sipped his tea, reminding Caniah not a little bit of Blanche herself. “I can make myself present.”

“Sundown! At the old palm. It works best at sundown.” Caniah grinned.

“We’ll workshop it.”

 

 

_And now… the wait._

Caniah tapped her foot, staring at the overcast sky. She leaned against a stone building feeling like some sort of hoodlum waiting to execute a shady deal. The sun was probably on its way down; not that she could see it.

_This time, I’ll find out for sure what they're up to together._

“‘Niaaaaah.”

Caniah jumped and glanced behind her. “Sophie! Go away; they're sure to notice if a bunch of people are clustered here!”

Sophie pouted. “But I’m _dying_ to see if your little scheme works!”

“Scheme? What _scheme?_ I’m not _scheming.”_

“To get them together? No?”

“Wh--I--no!” choked Caniah. “I just want to _see!_ If they're _already_ together!”

“Right, right. I forgot entirely.”

“You ninny.” Caniah punched her friend's arm.

“Yes, I am truly the ninniest.”

“Sophie?” called Blanchefleur from the near distance. She jogged up to the building to meet Sophie and Caniah, grass crunching beneath her feet. “Come on; the shadow puppet play is about to start.”

“Yes; please get out of here!” grumbled Caniah, pushing Sophie away.

Sophie laughed. “Fine! We’ll catch up later.”

Blanchefleur stifled a chuckle. “I can't believe you're spying on them like this, you _child.”_

“Enjoy your puppet show!” Caniah waved her friends off.

She didn't have to wait much longer, as the darkening clouds gained a bluish hue behind her and the wind picked up a noticeable chill. Wrapping her jacket tight around her shoulders, Caniah slunk closer to the shadow of the wall just as Lars stepped out from the vendors’ alley.

He wasn’t wearing his typical blue robes today; instead, his robes were a deep emerald green, dark enough that they didn't clash with his hair, and lined with both gold and a velvety plum. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he strolled towards the tree.

Caniah watched as he came to a halt, looking one way, then the other, then rocking back and forth on his heels. He was probably used to students showing up late. Rhen, of course, wouldn't be late. She would be early--which was to say, exactly on time.

There she was, in one of her fancier armored dresses, which was more dress than armor. The metal was intricately engraved and gilded, perfectly matching the golden fabric of the dress itself, cut in a youthful pattern and detailed with ivory. A few purple silk flowers peeked out from a corner of the square neckline.

Rhen trotted up the hill to the palm tree and hailed Lars. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

Lars crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. “I’m meeting some students here; they wanted to show me something.”

“Oh, really.” Rhen mirrored Lars’ pose. _“I’m_ meeting a student here; she's--wait.”

Lars rubbed his forehead. “Yeah.”

“We’ve been set up.”

Caniah leaned forward to hear a little more clearly; Rhen and Lars had lowered their voices. Now, they spoke in a total hush. She tried to read their lips, but all she could see was _“Why?”_ and then _“That girl” something, something, something_ and then _“Do you think we're being watched?”_

Rhen glanced behind her, and Lars grabbed her arm and tugged her further behind the palm tree. Caniah couldn't see their faces anymore. She cursed silently and sighed loudly, thumping her head against the stone wall.

And then she heard a _snap_ beside her left ear and Sophie giggling in her right, and suddenly, she could hear everything.

“This was very inappropriate of her,” she heard Rhen say, voice and breath as clear as if Rhen's nose were directly in her ear. “I’ll have to have a talk with her tomorrow.”

“What's the point in meddling like this, anyway?” murmured Lars. “What does she get out of it?”

“Well… she's a good girl. She obviously cares a lot.”

“What do you mean?”

There was a pause while Caniah listened to them breathe and think. Then,

“She wants us to be happy.”

Lars chuckled gently, a sound so soft it made Caniah smile reflexively. “She wants us to be happy?”

A pause. Caniah imagined Rhen nodding.

“Together?”

Caniah held her breath. _They're really not together? Really, truly not--?_

“Oh… dash it all; why not?”

Caniah heard Rhen pull toward Lars. When the kissing started, she jumped.

_“FINALLY!”_

The sounds in her head stopped. Rhen marched out from behind the palm and grabbed Caniah by the ear.

“I am going to skin you alive, you little snoop.”

“Ow ow ow ow ow! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“You’d better be. Take responsibility for this.” Rhen let her go, and Caniah stumbled before Rhen caught her and whispered in her ear, “Thank you.”

Lars stalked towards the pair and gave Caniah a disgusted look. “I don’t think you need me to tell you that this means detention for a month.”

“Don't worry, Lars; I have the discipline in hand.” Rhen reached into her satchel and extracted Caniah’s notebook from Professor Dostal’s class. “I did a little reconnaissance of my own.”

Caniah’s eyes widened. “No--!”

“Too late, my little cupid. Let's take a look at what you have to say about linear algebra.” Rhen flipped open the book and thumbed to a random page. “Ahh, here we go. See, a certain Sedonan friend of yours tipped me off about this when I caught her sleeping through Theoretical Combat 101. Thought I might find it interesting. Let's see.”

Lars raised an eyebrow and peered over her shoulder. “Oh boy.”

“Please, I’ll write lines, I’ll spar every day through lunch; anything!” pleaded Caniah.

“Losers aren't choosers,” chided Rhen. She cleared her throat. “Ahem. ‘Rhen slashed through the last wyvern, blood splattering her armor. Ignoring the tang in her mouth, she leaped over the corpse to her fallen companion. _Lars!_ she cried, collapsing to her knees, horrified that she would never again gaze into those unfathomable brown orbs, struck with an anguish she didn't want to name....’”

Lars, his chin resting on Rhen's shoulder, was clearly suppressing uncharitable laughter. The two young ladies hiding behind the building down the hill, however, were not so restrained. Caniah’s head snapped about as Sophie and Blanchefleur toppled to the ground, consumed by peals of mirth.

“You two,” called Lars. “Detention. One month.”

_“Squirrel dung!”_

“Language.”

Caniah grimaced. “Can I have that back now?”

Rhen and Lars looked at one another for a moment. With a grin, Rhen replied, “Mm… no.”

They kissed again. Caniah melted.

“Anyway!” Rhen slapped a finger back to the page as Caniah made a halfhearted attempt at grabbing the notebook. “Where was I? Ah, yes. ‘ _Lars! Oh, Lars, don't be dead! There will be cassia in Thais!_ _I can't heal you… but I can carry you!’”_

**Author's Note:**

> (ok so Juniper and Blanche are both way older and not actually sorcerers but... this... was so fun... to write........)
> 
> HAPPY WINTER EXCHANGE!!!!!!!!!!!! xoxoxo


End file.
